Tag Archives: Writing Exercises

Chuck Wendig Challenge: 1st 1/5th of a Story

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Found a challenge on the Chuck Wendig site: http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/11/22/flash-fiction-challenge-200-words-at-a-time-part-one/

I’m to write the 1st 200 words of a story, anything I want. Each week for the next 4 weeks, we’ll pick someone else’s piece and write the next 200 words. Sounded like fun. Here’s my 1st 200 words.

First 200 words of 1000 Word Story (200 words exactly)

Ewan Gilroy backed out of the library stack in a hurry. He peeked around the corner. Oh no.

He crept along the next row to watch the co-ed over the books. Ewan sweated as she checked the paper in her hand. She’s looking for something specific. Can’t be my book, no one’s checked it out in three years. She ran her finger along the titles. He froze as she pulled a book from the shelf. That book has the stolen code. I can’t finish this hack without it!

At the check-out Ewan walked up behind her with a random book.

“Nice to see you again, Brooke,” the librarian smiled. “Science of Computer MetaPhysics and Interdimensional Theory,” she stamped the lending card and her record book and handed the book to Brooke. “Research?”

“From Professor Ingles’ additional reading list for my final paper.” She tucked the book under her arm. “It looks like heavy reading.”

“You’ll do fine. Have a good day.”

“Thanks, you too.” Brooke left.

“May I help you?” the librarian asked.

“Uh, no, changed my mind, thanks.” Ewan dropped his book on the counter and hurried after Brooke. He’d follow her and with luck, get the book back.

Flash Fiction Friday: Three 3 Sentence Stories

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I was reading Chuck Wendig’s blog last week and he put up a challenge. Write a three sentence horror story. http://terribleminds.com/ramble/2013/10/11/flash-fiction-challenge-horror-in-three-sentences/ You can check out what other people wrote on Chuck’s blog, terribleminds.

Here are three that I did.

Story 1 – Mother’s Love

The wind whistled through the bare maple tree branches as the full moon shed its light on Toby Vertucci who stood just inside the cemetery gate. The flowers for his mother’s grave dropped unnoticed from his nerveless fingers as tendrils of icy mist began to encircle him. As the mist closed around him he heard, “Thank you sweetheart, I’ve been waiting for you.”

Story 2 – They Warned Us

The nuclear war lasted 3 days, 10 years ago, and nearly every city of any real size was destroyed. Parents dead and now alone, fourteen year old Anastasia worked her garden, napping in the sun when she could, so she could guard the garden all night to protect it from predators. Her heart fell at the chittering in the distance warning of the cockroach hoard approaching and eating everything in their path, including her.

Story 3 – The Choice

It was his own fault for honking his horn when the old woman reached the front of his car. Jump or be eaten, she snarled as she pointed at him from the crosswalk. Now Stan stood on the roof ledge of his 20 story apartment building, wind whipping around him, frozen with fear and had to choose between the jump or the red eyed wolf, panting on the roof behind him.

207 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: Captain Blackfur

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I did this as a writing exercise back in June. In reality, it’s not a complete story, more like a first chapter or even a vignette. But I thought you’d enjoy it. Let me know how you like it. I may turn it into a short story or even a novel if you all think it’s worth it.

Captain Blackfur

Captain Zaphod Blackfur extended a claw and pushed the recessed button on his command console to bring the ship to impulse power. He had only one item in his cargo bay, a four cubic foot box. He was curious about that box, after all, he was still carrying cat DNA, but not enough to go back there and look inside. That wouldn’t be worth his skin.

The control tower radioed. “Proceed at one quarter impulse power, Captain.”

He confirmed and brought the ship speed down. The sky city states were particular about traffic around them. That was understandable; it would be messy if one were hit. The mountain that was his destination appeared on his forward screen. He reduced speed again. Damn them for hiding the landing bay doors. As if it wasn’t hard enough to fly and land a ship.

A door in the side of the mountain opened and a tractor beam pulled him into the cavern. He didn’t like it but if he tried to fly in himself, they’d turn the on force field protecting the hidden city and his ship would splatter against it, falling to the forested mountainside in smoking pieces.

On the dock he was met by the owner of the box, a human male, six feet tall, hands tucked into the wide sleeves of his master scientist robes. His blue eyes drilled into Zaphod.

“Thank you for making this speed run, Captain.”

“My pleasure, Master Whin.” Zaphod knew better than to try and shake hands. Whin’s  intense stare made him wary. The man paid a lot of money for this run from Centauri, maybe he’s anxious. He handed the scientist his pad, “If you’ll just sign here, I’ll get your box for you.”

The scientist hesitated and Zaphod began to bristle. It was known that many humans were prejudiced against the mutant animals. But it was their own fault, spewing toxins and genetically modified material all over the planet. What did they expect would happen? Whin slowly removed his hand from his sleeve and took the pad. He pressed his thumb to the screen.

Zaphod made an effort to control the bristle down his back while taking the pad. “I’ll bring it right out.” He had loaded it on a maglift just inside the hatch, out of sight. He hovered the box through the access way and down the ramp. He was handing Whin the handle when the man’s chest exploded in a spray of red. Zaphod dived for cover as several creatures came running in his direction.

They were a mix of cats, dogs and a bear, all sentient like him. The bear pulled him out from behind some shipping crates. One of the dog persons seemed to be in charge.

“What were you doing? Do you know who you were giving this too?” The snarl on the dog’s face was primeval.

Zaphod shrugged. “I was delivering a box to Master Whin. Who are you?”

“Cody Rex, I’m with the Sentient Beings Coalition. Do you have any idea what is in this box?”

“You’re terrorists, making it harder on the rest of us.” Zaphod hissed, “And I don’t care what’s in the box. I was paid to pick it up and deliver it here. End of story.”

Cody nodded at the two cat persons. They nodded back and hustled the box away. The bear and the other dog picked up the body and disappeared around the bend of the dock. He turned back to Zaphod. “The box contains a virus that will alter the DNA of created beings. Turn us back into the dumb animals we once were.”

Zaphod felt his back arch in a primal reflex. He fought it. “That’s ridiculous. It’s against the law to discriminate against created beings.” He thought back to Whin’s reaction.  “Anyway,” he asked, “how do you know what is in the crate. It could be furniture.”

Cody sniffed. “We have spies, comrades in places of power.” He held his head up, sniffing again. “I have to go. Think about joining us, Zaphod Blackfur. We could use a ship’s captain.” He turned and ran down the dock, disappearing through a door.

Zaphod hustled up his ship’s ramp, closing the access way up tight. Security would be around any minute.  He ran to the bridge, thinking about Cody’s invitation and the sky city states. Each one was as human only as they could legally make them. Sure, he delivered to them, but his reception was always cool. He never stayed long. On the bridge the comm light was blinking. Sinking into his chair, he punched the button. “Captain Blackfur here, Control.”

“Captain Blackfur, sensors picked up what sounded like an explosion on the dock outside your ship.”

“I heard no explosion, Control.”

“Security will be there in three minutes.”

“Thank you, Control.” He clicked off. Great, they’ll check the DNA and know it’s Master Whin. He turned on the dock monitors. The security team was just arriving. A sergeant pointed one man to the blood on the deck. Others were directed to search the perimeter. He began to speak into a comm unit. Zaphod counted, three, two, one, and pointed at the signal light on the comm board. It popped on as he pointed.

“Captain Blackfur here.”

“Captain, patching Sergeant Urich through to you.”

Zaphod watched his monitor, a moment later, he had the sergeant.

“Captain Blackfur, this is Sergeant Urich. Did you see what happened out here?”

“Sorry, no, Sergeant Urich. Is something wrong?”

“There’s blood all over the dock, Captain.”

Zaphod watched the security officer stare at the ship. This one’s no dummy, Zaphod thought. He’s going to pull the video from the dock security cameras and see the whole thing.  “Sorry, Sergeant, I completed my business with my shipper and came back into the ship.”

He saw the Sergeant grimace. “Thank you for your time, Captain.”

Zaphod cut the connection. He’ll order that footage right away. I need to get out of here.

The End

999 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here:http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: The Old Farm

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This story came from a writing prompt back in May. Enjoy.

The Old Farm

Jason sat in the second pew from the front, behind his dad and mom, Bart and Erin. Bart was the oldest son, his sister Ann and her husband, Clive sat beside them. Last in the front pew was his uncle Glen, the youngest, and his wife Mary. Grandma Carol sat at the end on the center aisle, tears dripping silently down her cheeks.

As the oldest grandchild he was on the end too, he leaned forward and patted her on the shoulder. She turned slightly and reached across herself to pat his hand. After the service they assembled in the old farmhouse where she’d raised her three children. He came into the kitchen with a pile of dirty paper plates after the guests had left. His father was talking to his grandmother across the table. His mom was at the table too, his aunts and uncles stood around the kitchen, leaning against the cabinets and the sink.

“It’s for the best, Mom,” Bart told his mother. “You’re out here all by yourself.”

Jason felt a flash of anger, his father was always the bully, always knew what was best for everyone else. His grandmother looked exhausted; paler than even an 82 year old should be. “She’s tired, Dad,” Jason dropped the paper plates in the huge trash bag in front of the kitchen door. “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow?”

His father glared. Jason raised his eyebrows. He knew his father hated that.

“It doesn’t need to be decided tonight, whether she stays here or goes somewhere else.” Jason put an arm around his grandmother. “Come on, Grandma. I’ll walk you up to your bedroom.”

When he came down the rest of the aunts, uncles and cousins had left. They all lived in the surrounding towns and could drive home. Jason and his parents were staying overnight.

“I wish you would have let me handle this, Jason,” his father said as he tied the garbage bag closed. “She can’t stay here at her age. We’ve found a perfect retirement home for her. It’s right near us. We can visit every weekend. The sale of this old farm will pay for everything.”

His father was a complete type ‘A’ personality. His mother too, he thought. Everything has to happen right now. “It’s not the time, Dad. It’s been a long day and she’s tired. Cut her some slack.”

His mother turned from the sink where she was washing up serving plates and glasses. “We’re only going to be here another day, Jason. It has to be settled.”

Jason shrugged and went into the living room to finish cleaning up. He wasn’t going to win this argument. They and his aunt and uncle had left the farm as soon as they could. They all made fancy careers for themselves. They let him and his cousins come back in the summer. Jason remembered jumping out of the hay lofts, gathering eggs, learning to drive the big John Deere tractor for his grandfather. Shelling peas with his grandmother under the big old oak tree in the side yard, watching the sun set over the fields was the best part of the day.

Later, in bed, he watched the stars wheel through the night sky, listening to the night animals rustle through the fields outside his bedroom window. In the morning, he was up at the first light of day. He’d done alright in college. He graduated with a solid B average in business. But in the eight years since then he had hardly moved from the entrance level position as a mid-level manager in the computer company he’d joined after graduation. He hated the cubicle life and the constant backstabbing and political jockeying that went with being in a large company.

He walked out into the fields and from a small hill watched the sun come up over the farm. The rooster crowed; a lonely sound this early in the morning. He smiled to himself at the thought of his mother cursing the bird as she pulled the pillow over her head. All of the tension of yesterday left him. He could feel it just draining away into the earth he sat on. The birds began their morning songs as the sun peaked up over the horizon.

The morning dew soaked his sneakers and jeans as he walked back to the kitchen. He knew his grandmother would be up, making coffee and biscuits. He could smell the coffee as he opened the screen door. “Morning, Grandma,” he gave her a kiss on the cheek, her flour covered hands held up in the air.

“Mornin’ Jason.” She went back to rolling out the biscuit dough. “You’re up early.”

He slumped into a kitchen chair, watching her roll the dough. “Yeah, couldn’t sleep.”

She nodded. “Change can do that.”

“Are you going to move to that fancy retirement home?”

She cut the biscuits with a cutter twice as old as he was. “Probably. I can’t keep the farm up by myself.” She paused, the cutter half way to the dough. “I’m getting tired, Jason.”

“Hmm,” he said.

He was slathering his grandmother’s wild blackberry jam on the still hot biscuit when his father and mother came into the kitchen. They poured coffee and sat down. His mother wrinkled her nose at the biscuit. “How can you eat that as soon as you get up?”

“I’ve been up for hours,” he said, then popped half the biscuit into his mouth. “How much are you going to ask for the farm?”

his father stirred milk into his coffee. “I looked up an estimate before we came. I think we can get at least a million for it.”

Jason nodded. “I have some money saved. I’d like to buy it.”

He glanced over at his grandmother, standing at the sink washing up the mixing bowl. She gave him a wink and a grin.

The End

985 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here: http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: How To Get Rid Of An Ogre

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Another one of the stories I worked on while taking the Holly Lisle class: How to write Flash Fiction the Doesn’t Suck. (https://howtothinksideways.com/)

How To Get Rid Of An Ogre

I hesitated outside the wizard’s door. It all looked normal; rosebeds, yard, Craftsman bungalow. Wiping my hands on my jeans, I gathered my courage and punched the doorbell before I could change my mind. Hearing someone approach the door, I pulled my hair a little more over my black-eye. No sense showing him everything at once.

#

That night George came home from work and sat heavily in his seat at the dining room table.  I brought our plates out and set his in front of him. He sniffed, first at the pork chops on his plate, then face up, sniffed the air. Pushing back from the table he rose, sniffing the air more.

My stomach began to roll. “Is something wrong?”

He stopped beside me, sniffing the air around me. His fist came down on the table, rattling the cutlery. “Magic!” he shouted. “You smell of magic!” Reaching out, he grabbed my left arm and pulled me out of my seat.

I woke up in the corner of the dining room, broken dishes and food all around me. Nothing felt broken but I had a huge lump on my head. Glancing at the clock, I saw it was 3am. I picked up the dining room and back in the kitchen, took an ibuprophen.

By 9am I was at the wizard’s house. When Paul opened the door, I went straight in. “The protection spell didn’t work.” I turned to him, standing in the middle of his living room.

“It should have worked,” he closed the door and came to stand in front of me. Again, he hummed and ran his hands around me. “It’s still in place,” he dropped his hands and cocked his head. “What haven’t you told me?”

I began wringing my hands, “My husband is an ogre.”

Paul stepped back. “An ogre! You should have told me. You’re bonded by marriage,” and looked me in the eye. “This is going to make it expensive.”

I gulped, “I don’t have much. How much will it cost?”

“What you value most.”

My mind whirled. “What I value most? I don’t understand.”

He took a deep breath. “Most people don’t know what they value most. You have some time; I’ll keep working. But at the end, you’ll owe me what you value most, whatever that is.” At the door, he told me, “Stay somewhere other than at home tonight. Come back tomorrow. I’ll have something for you by then.”

I’d read enough fairy tales to know I didn’t want to pay what I valued most, even if I knew what that was. I spent the day at the library and went home after a trip to the meat market. “George,” I smiled. “Big dinner tonight.”

It took a whole beef, two pigs, a dozen chickens and a goose. The goose did it; he exploded all over the dining room. “Till death do us part, dear,” I smiled from the kitchen.  “It’s amazing what you can research on the internet.”

The End

499 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here:http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Writing Workshop Mapping Exercise

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I’ve been taking this writing class called Mugging the Muse by Holly Lisle. (http://HowToThinkSideways.com) One lesson has us think of a new story idea by drawing a map.

Here’s mine.

Image

After you have some things like cities, mountains, lakes, oceans on the map, you start naming things, coming up with ideas about who lives there, what are they all about, and so on.

I’ve developed a whole Fantasy story from this map with people and 2000 year timelines and wars and social strata. Pretty exciting. I don’t know when I’ll write it but if you ever wanted to know the thought process behind writing a story. Here’s just one.

Flash Fiction Friday: Adoption

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Another of my writing exercises from the How to Write Flash Fiction that doesn’t Suck! A SciFi take on another sort of rebellion. See my post from July 5th, for my first take on this theme.

Adoption

My family looked across the kitchen table in amazement. “You did what?” my sister squeaked.

“I decided to accept Klapah’s offer to adopt me.”

“Why?” my mother asked, her voice was tight. I knew she was trying not to cry.

“Because until we have the ability to make the rules, we’ll always be oppressed,” I crossed my arms over my chest. I knew I was right, and I’d made up my mind.

The training was brutal. Technologically superior, the Kalan had over run our planet. They took what they wanted and made the population near slaves. Before the adoption, I had to become one of them; customs, courtesies, and language; that was the hardest. All of those glottal stops. It took three years. The ceremony was held in the village square. My wagon was pelted by rotten fruit and names like traitor were spat in my direction by my old friends and neighbors.  Custom required my family be present to hand me over to Klapah.

Dad was stiff faced but Mom cried a river. I tried to talk to my sister before the ceremony. “Lois, can you wish me well?”

She glared. “You’re just looking for the easy life. You think the child price Klapah paid is enough to keep Mom from weeping every night? The money will buy us some comfort, yes. But at what cost? Nothing will change for us.” She turned her back on me.

At the ceremony their part was brief. Walk across the square with me between them. Dad placed my hand in Klapah’s. They went back to the human side of the square.

#

It wasn’t easy. Most Kalan believed we were inferior. Families adopting human children lost significant status.

My classmate, Kor, sat across the classroom. He sniffed the air. “Something rank in the classroom again today,” his gold eyes focused in my direction. He snorted, “Must be something I picked up on my sandal from the human ghetto.”

It was on me to ignore the insult. Any show of emotion would have them report my breach of conduct to the Council. I schooled my face; they saw only a placid exterior. “Perhaps one should take more care with one’s personal hygiene.”

The other Kalan students chittered at my point. The one other human in the room, a young man my age, took care not to laugh but I saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

#

I spent my entire adult life increasing the number of human adoptees, to battle to make Humans the equals of Kalans.

Fifty years later, I was a matriarch in the Kalan society on the planet. I married my old classmate, had children, and raised them as Kalan. I was at the Assembly when my son, the Speaker, implemented the new law making Humans the equal of the Kalan.

The End

472 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here:http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: The Last Straw

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Another of my writing exercises from the How to Write Flash Fiction that doesn’t Suck! I’m sure many people can relate to this woman’s need to find a new job.

The Last Straw

I was just sinking my toes into warm, powdery sand, a cold drink being handed to me by a very fit young man when…”Ann! Are you with us?”

I jerked back to my reality, the boss glaring at me from the end of the conference room table.

“As I was saying,” he moved his glare around the room, “it’s all hands on deck. This proposal isn’t going to write itself. All vacations are hereby cancelled until after the presentations.”

My heart fell and it felt like the room went dark. I’d been planning my South Pacific beach get away for over a year. I already had my plane tickets and hotel reservations for two weeks from now. “But…,” every head in the room snapped around and every eye focused on me.

“Yes, Ann?” He looked at me as though I were an éclair, the fat slob.

“Um, what about the employees who’ve made plans?” I looked around the table for some support but no one was stepping up. “Uh, they’ve bought tickets and stuff,” I finished lamely.

He snorted, “They’ll have to get refunds.” Standing up he continued, “I’ve sent sections of the proposal to each of you. I expect your drafts on my desk in a week.”

I delivered the bad news to my team. Of course they weren’t any happier about it than I was. I felt most sorry for Ben. He was getting married next month and had booked a honeymoon in England, hiking Hadrian’s Wall. It told him we’d see what we could do closer to the date. I thought about my old college friend Mike, who worked in consulting. What a plum job; do a particular project and then on to the next, able to schedule vacations between jobs.

We worked all week on our section of the proposal. At the Friday meeting it turned out everything we wrote actually fit into all the other proposal sections. What a stroke of luck! Maybe I could take my vacation after all.

I spent the evenings going to my hotel’s on-line site, imagining myself on that beautiful beach.

Tuesday, I was working a few details, meshing the proposal plan to everyone else’s when I got a call from Finance. “Hey Gary,” I said into the phone. “Our section of the proposal isn’t over-budget is it?”

“Uh, no, Ann, that’s not why I called.”

I relaxed into my chair. If it wasn’t the proposal, there wasn’t anything else in my department to worry about.

“I don’t know how to say it,” he took a deep breath. “Your bank just failed.”

A week later Ann sat her drink down in the sand next to her, adjusting the sunshade over her head. Speaking into her headset, “Yes, Michael, I’m ready to begin.” Selecting a file from her Ipod, it appeared on the screens of all the other teleconference members. “My section of the proposal is…”

The End

485 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here:http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

Flash Fiction Friday: For Alana!

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This is one of the stories I worked on while taking the Holly Lisle class: How to write Flash Fiction the Doesn’t Suck. (https://howtothinksideways.com/) I know, great title. Anyway, this one seemed appropriate for the 4th of July Weekend. Enjoy!

For Alana!

“I have a meeting.”

Mom looked worried and grabbed her arm. “Alana, don’t. It’s too dangerous.”

She patted her mother’s arm. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

Leaving the house she pulled her hood up. She didn’t need any nosy neighbor turning her in to the patrols.

Alana stood at the front of the barn and clapped her hands to start the meeting. Stron, the owner of the barn and her first convert, stood to the side of the hay bale she stood on. “It’s time to stop talking.  Now is the time to fight and get the rest of us to rise against the oppressors. I’ve found out the Mayor is travelling from the capital to his summer villa by Lake Osaka. I intend us to attack his convoy and stuff our demands down his throat.”

“That’s a hundred miles away, the middle of nowhere,” Stron shouted. Many in the crowd of 40 agreed with him.

“Yes, that way the oppressors won’t know which village to punish.”

“How will that get the rest of the villages to rebel?”

“It shows we’re doing something, anything to overthrow these oppressors.”

“We’ll get killed,” she heard shouted from the back.

“It will prove our passion!”

It took some argument but she assembled a team of four others. The day of the raid dawned overcast. She scanned the sky as her team assembled. “There’ll be rain later. That’s good; the Mayor’s guards will be less alert.”

Stashing the truck a quarter mile from the road they set up the ambush. When the convoy approached, the lookout whistled.

Letting the first truck pass they attacked the second and fourth vehicles. Converging on the Mayor’s car, third in line, the driver and guard opened fire. Alana tossed a tear-gas grenade in through the open window. The two men and the Mayor fled the car. She tackled the Mayor as he knelt, gasping for air. The rest of the team took care of the driver and guard.

“Mr. Mayor,” she jerked him up. “The oppression must stop.” She jammed the list of demands into his mouth.

That was when the Imperial troopers arrived from both road directions. Her four teammates took off for the truck, leaving her behind. The troopers captured her just inside the woods.

A week later Alana was hanged in her village square, her mother wailing at the front of the crowd. The rebels from the barn remembered her passion. The revolt began, Alana’s name cried during each attack. “For Alana!”

The End

499 Words

Find more of the Forward Motion Flash Friday Group here:http://www.fmwriters.com/flash.html

On Writing and Gardening

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Only two weeks left in June! I’m still struggling with getting my planning done for the book I want to write in the July National Novel Writing Month. (July NaNo for short.)

I’m having so much trouble I purchased Holly Lisle’s Plot Clinic (http://howtothinksideways.com/shop/) and am going through the exercises, trying to get my brain to come up with exciting ideas for the plot.

Other news, the garden is growing great guns. Tomatoes and eggplant have blossoms. The peas and string beans are already bearing fruit. Herbs look just luxurious and abundant. I’ve already cut thyme and oregano to dry for winter use. The potatoes are also doing well. Like all my other veggies, they’re in a 4X4 foot square foot raised bed. I haven’t grown potatoes this way so I’m pleased that it’s working.

I hope that whatever your endeavors, you’re doing well. Share your progress!